


Mamoritai

by iokayia



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Drama, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Blood, Oblivious Shiro (Voltron), Pining Keith (Voltron), Protective Krolia (Voltron), Sad Keith (Voltron), Stubborn Keith (Voltron), Tragic Romance, angst countdown to s8
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-08-26 02:46:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16673263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iokayia/pseuds/iokayia
Summary: After the Paladins return to earth, Keith’s long-suppressed feelings begin to manifest in a way he’d never expected.He let out a humorless huff as he looked at the petals in front of him - how could such tender things be able to express the hollow that ruled his soul, emptying it until nothing but the need of being loved was left? How could such tiny things be able to capture the essence of Takashi Shirogane so well, how could their deep purple color be the same as Black’s when Shiro piloted it, so similar and yet so different to Keith’s color? How was it able to tear down the walls Keith had crafted oh so carefully around his heart with such ease, such as the person they were so similar to?Fate was a cruel companion.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> Hanahaki is one of my fav tropes in fiction and I couldn't resist expanding the very very small number of Hanahaki sheith fics in the fandom. I hope you like it!
> 
> Edited by the amazing [Wenzel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wenzel/pseuds/Wenzel) ([tumblr](http://the-wenzel.tumblr.com/)) and [Lee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glossolalia/pseuds/Glossolalia) ([twitter](https://twitter.com/leecawrites)). Summary by [Audrey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicbees) ([twitter](https://twitter.com/sheithinlove)).

It started with a dull ache in his chest. Keith had ignored it, brushed it off as a cold, nothing serious. He got a lot of them, especially earlier in his childhood when he had stayed outside for too long, playing with the coyotes in the deep red desert sand.

He knew the feeling very well, the feeling of getting pierced by thousands of needles from within. It was living hell, and all those nights he had laid in his bed, drowning in sweat and coughing up yellow-greenish phlegm, had taught him one thing - fighting the Galra was a cakewalk compared to being ill.

Yet Keith hadn’t been sick since his now friends and he had begun their journey, so he was overly confident (and desperately hopeful) not to get ill again. Keith had forgotten The Garrison united weak immune systems and persistent viruses, so it hadn’t taken long before he felt the all too well-known prickling in his nose which made him impossibly angry.

He was not allowed to be sick. He had no time for that in the middle of the war. He was essential for forming Voltron: nobody could replace him. Well, a certain someone could, but he had his own ship now. Every time Keith thought about him and his mesmerizing silver hair, the scratching in his throat and chest got worse. The pain had started two weeks ago, and by now, it felt like he would crack any second. Not the best prelude for an important international meeting.

Chained to the ugly gray reality of the uncomfortable Garrison chairs, Keith was forced to listen to Iverson's snarling voice as he explained something Keith couldn't care less about. The high walls, hidden beneath darkness and only disturbed by the bright light of the projector, yawned at him. It made Keith shift uncomfortably in his chair.

The itching in his throat hadn't stopped despite the three pills he had swallowed in sheer desperation far more quickly than the label advised. It burned; it felt like his skin would start to peel off any second, and the thought alone tied his stomach in knots.

The icy fear of being discovered clenched his heart, making it almost impossible for him to breathe. The air in the room was unnaturally dry and itched at the back of his throat. Keith tried to swallow, hoping to soothe the scratch, but he failed. He suppressed another cough.

Instead, he lifted his gaze he back to Iverson, trying to look at least a bit interested. It had become easier to look at him and not be overtaken by old memories, filled with screaming, pain, loneliness, and despair. Now it was a feeling of quiet, lurking fondness, respect for the brave actions the man had taken to save Earth.

“The static fields around Sector B...” Iverson's voice got further and further away as if he was vanishing in thick mist, replaced by a low buzz in Keith's eardrums. It pressed against his auditory canal, fueling his headache even more. It felt like it tried to split open his skull, starting from the front of his head, right between his eyes.

Keith took a deep breath, a hopeless attempt to ground himself. The well-known mantra echoed through his head, gently awaking fond memories. ‘Patience yields focus... Focus.’

Inevitably, a picture of Shiro forced itself to the forefront of his mind. It was an old memory but undoubtedly one of the best Keith possessed.

Beautiful, perfect Shiro. Perfect in his leather jacket, leaning against his hover-bike, so casual and confident it caught Keith's breath every time he thought about it.

“It shows unnatural activity…” The buzzing in his heart made his teeth vibrate. “Atlas might be able to emerge…”

He had to turn s away to avoid freeing the coughs.

His gaze met Allura's worried one. She sat on the opposite side of the table, her uniform’s golden stripes glittering in the light.

Keith didn't know how sick he looked, but Allura's expression made his need for rest shamelessly obvious. Her eyes flickered from his the dark shadows under his eyes to his dry, chapped lips, trying to map out any reason for his horrible state.

Her elbow nudged at Lance's firm side. Being focused on Iverson and the complicated graphic in the background, he jolted in surprise, eyes widening comically and Keith would have chuckled if it wouldn't kill him. Allura made a small gesture with her hand in his direction; Keith looked away.

He had been lucky in many regards. He didn’t die when he should have. He’d survived the worst injuries and found his mom who he’d thought dead. Yet today seemed to be the day his lucky streak ended.

His eyes met the inky black stripes of a well-polished uniform and suddenly, the itching worsened. The black cloth looked as beautiful as its owner.

By the time Keith’s and Shiro’s eyes met, his throat felt like it had caught fire. Pulsating and destructive, it blazed up to his mouth, pressing against his skin like it wanted to break through. It pushed against his clenched lips, threatening to send him into a fit of coughs.

He couldn’t do this, it was not possible. He couldn’t keep sitting here, waiting for the meeting to end; he’d have puked on Shiro’s lap by then. The thought alone made him shiver - no, that was absolutely not an option.

Keith blinked twice before he made his decision - he had to go. Now.

“I’m sorry,” he managed to press out, his voice terribly hoarse and breathy, indicating what everyone already suspected.

The last thing he saw was the sudden change in Shiro’s expressions - soft and friendly to worried - before he jumped out of his chair. Iverson abruptly stopped talking. Keith heard him take a deep breath to possibly yell at Keith but he wouldn’t have time for that.

Keith’s legs wobbled as he stumbled to the door, his lungs yearning for a breath he couldn’t capture. is shaky hand found its way to the doorknob, curling around it in a tight grip, tearing it open and shutting it with a loud bang before Shiro’s worried hands could reach him.

His feet flew as he ran away from the conference room, his own steps echoing in his ears as he staggered around the corner. His vision blurred, getting dangerously dark at its edges, yet Keith forced himself to stay upright, the pain stabbing his throat at every movement he made. He ignored the concerned looks of the passing students and teachers, muttering excuses when people asked him if he was alright.

‘Patience yields focus.’

The mantra echoed through his head, clearing his vision enough to find the way to the nearest restroom. Only moments after he locked the door, his forehead met the cold tiles of the wall, moist breath misting the sleek black top. His eyes fell shut in exhaustion, too heavy to stay open for a second longer.

He had made it. The tension drained from his shoulders and his knees buckled at the sudden ease.

The need crawled up his throat again, powerful like a force of nature, and Keith didn’t have the energy to deny it anymore. As soon as he parted his lips, the first cough found its way outside, quickly accompanied by others. It was incredibly freeing, at least for the first thirty seconds. His brows clenched in confusion as Keith raised his hand to cover his mouth.

Something wet hit his palm, too dry for blood but too solid for spit. Fear pulsated through his veins as he withdrew his hand, and got replaced by blank horror.

It was flower petals. Purple and small, they rested in his palm and drenched his hand with saliva.

They almost looked... pretty. It was a strange thing to think about since they caused him pain, but somehow they reminded him of someone. Keith couldn’t quite place the sensation but it warmed his belly and made him smile, even in the depths of despair he was currently into.

The sudden smell of ozone didn’t allow him to think more thoughtfully about the feeling. Of course, he knew where it was coming from, the smell almost more familiar to him than his own.

Kosmo.

He hadn’t had the time to greet him. The edges of his vision drowning in black and he stumbled forward towards Kosmo.

“Sorry,” was the last thing that came from his lips and the glowing blue stripes were the last thing he saw. He allowed himself to drown in sweet nothingness, letting it pull him deeper and deeper until he couldn’t resist anymore. Gently, the thick blanket of darkness draped him, tucking him into a dreamless sleep.

 

* * *

 

“Keith, are you okay?”

Shiro’s concerned voice was the first thing Keith heard, breaking through the heavy fog. Shiro. Shiro was here. The pain in his throat appeared insignificant to the idea of catching a glimpse of the other man. A smile tugged at the corners of his scraped lips. Suddenly, everything looked a bit brighter.

It took him a few moments to orientate himself, staring at utter darkness. He laid on soft ground, and a small movement of his hand told him it was his bed. The warm blanket irritated his bare legs and his hair tickled the sensitive skin of his neck. It felt like his body was one big nerve being tormented. Maybe it was the illness making him so weak. The sweat on his forehead was cold and he knew he must look as bad as the time he had managed to get through the Trial.

Gently, he turned his head and a feeling of serenity overcame him as he saw the thick fur of his loyal companion. Keith tried to smile but the sudden pain pulsating through his lips prevented it.  His hand found dry, chapped skin when he pressed fingers to his mouth. How long had it been since he last drank fluids?

He couldn’t let Shiro see him in this state. The Atlas captain had enough to worry about. He didn’t need to waste time with Keith. Keith’s jaw clenched at the idea of lying to Shiro, but he had no other option.

He shoved himself onto his arms, upper body still resting against cool sheets, and his eyes found the door. A thin line of light glinted through the bottom slit of the door into his room and illuminated the room just enough to outline the furniture. Keith squinted before a groan left his lips. Almost immediately, he regretted that decision. The burning pain flamed anew, leading to another spate of coughs.

Shiro’s voice was frantic now. He banged at the door.h. “Keith!”

“I’m good,” Keith managed to say before another cough tore through his body. Something wet met the back of his hand-- petals again.

Keith could almost see Shiro’s expression when he spoke. “Are you sure?”

He nodded before he realized Shiro couldn’t see him.  He swallowed before he croaked a broken-sounding, “Yeah!”

Clothes rustled. Shiro’s warm voice replied again, washing over him like a soothing wave. “I’ll look for your mom, is that okay with you?”

‘Yes, please,’ he thought but only a grunt made it past his lips. His stomach tensed as desperation found its way to his heart. He wanted to say so much more, tell Shiro how he hated to be separated from him, how much his heart yearned to see him again, to look into his eyes, how the pain ripped him apart and could only be soothed by Shiro’s touch and his touch alone-- how Keith wanted to curl into a ball, shaken by sobs as he thought about all the despair and sorrow in the back of his head.

There were many things Keith wanted to tell Shiro, but he knew he never could. Shiro was busy enough there was no need for him to get stressed about something so minor.

So he smiled to himself, a poor attempt of cheering himself up before he let himself fall back onto covers stained by violet petals.

He remembered the day he fell for Shiro like it had been yesterday. A content smile played on his lips and he closed his eyes, allowing the memory to take over him.

_His legs made a loud, monotone sound as Keith let them dangle and swing, the hot metal of the Garrison rooftop burning his naked legs. It was a hot summer day, the air hazy and as the sun attempted to fry his brain._

_With a sigh, Keith let his eyes trace the distant mountains and desert that laid below his feet. Sweat ran down his neck, sticking his ruffled uniform to his drenched skin. Keith twitched in disgust. The thought of a cold shower tempted him more than anything else but he couldn’t go back, not after what happened._

_Carefully, he raised his hand and touched the bruised area around his socket. It pulsated hotly under his dry fingertips and Keith knew he would end up with an enormous black eye tomorrow. He scowled - Griffin was an asshole._

_”Keith!”_

_His heart jumped in his chest as the loud yell cut through the heavy silence. Keith whirled around, almost falling from the rooftop. His hand flailed out, trying to steady himself. It didn’t work and the hot feeling of panic rushed through his veins as Keith realized he was going to fall. His mouth was agape, trying to say something-_

_A strong hand closed around his upper arm, yanking him backward. Keith’s shout of surprise got muffled by a very broad and warm chest, and the familiar scent calmed Keith’s heart rate faster down than anything else ever could._

That had been their first hug. Keith remembered how awkward human touch had been to him after years in the desert. But Shiro had been something else. His touch was as soft as the gentle breeze rustling through the bushes in front of his former home, enveloping him in an unknown warmth that spread from his fingertips to his toes. Sometimes Keith had spent sleepless nights at the Garrison repeating their touches again and again.

_Shiro’s voice rang in his ears, making Keith wince. “What were you thinking?!”_

_Keith stuttered, his mouth sticking to the soft white fabric. He tried to catch a glimpse at Shiro's face but he didn't get a chance. Instead, Shiro pressed him even closer, his breath tickling the sensitive skin of Keith’s ear._

_Shiro’s voice was a whisper. “I'm sorry, I was worried.”_

The glowing awe he had felt back then had burnt into his mind and returned every time he looked at Shiro or thought of his laugh and kind eyes. Even now, it sparked wonder in his chest and Keith's hands clenched around the soft bed sheets.

_They continued to stand there, right under the hot sun, Shiro’s arms clenched around him so tightly that Keith feared he might get bruises from it. He didn't say anything, too nervous about what Shiro might do. Shiro’s even breath was comforting and Keith allowed himself to close his eyes, and listen to the steady heartbeat._

_Keith allowed himself to be dragged further into the void until the world around him seemed pleasingly distant. He nuzzled his cheek even closer against Shiro’s sweater and a laugh of happiness demanded to break free but he suppressed it._

_Shiro’s deep breath brought him back to reality, making him aware of the heavy weight pulling at his heart and the thoughts circling in his head. He almost fell over as Shiro leaned back a bit to look at him; his face lined by worry._

_“You know, in the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t matter what one person thinks of you if you decide not to take their opinion to heart.”_

_Shiro’s voice was heavy and his eyes full of worry as he said those words. Keith's heart skipped a beat as he struggled to understand what he felt. Shiro must have seen the astonishment in Keith’s face and the words tumbled out of his mouth as he explained himself. “Iverson told me.”_

_“Oh,” was the only thing Keith was able to say, his sight fixed on the outline of Shiro’s cheekbone. The guilty conscience boiled in his belly and suddenly, the fear was back. Keith gasped, jerking his eyes away._

_Shiro proved again that he could read Keith like a book. “I’m not mad, Keith, it’s okay. Just make sure to not--” he paused, a considering look on his face-- “harm anyone again, okay?”_

_The only thing Keith could do was to nod dumbfounded._

Keith sighed contently as he tugged himself further under the sheets. He opened his eyes to stare at the blank ceiling as his thoughts raced through his mind. Shiro had never been disappointed in him, why would he be now? Keith bit his bottom lip, chewing on it. This was different, though; it was more serious than punching Griffin. Worse: the war made every distraction worse than it actually was.

The burning in his throat came faster than he could have prepared for. With a gush of spit, another pile of flowers hit the pillow to his right and Keith closed his eyes in pain. He couldn't tell Shiro: Keith didn't want to worry him, and he'd never be able to explain it to the man. He tried to ignore the sharp feeling in his chest at the thoughts. He focused on memories of Shiro's smile as he drifted back to sleep.

 

* * *

 

The next time he woke up, it was due to several voices arguing in the hall. Keith was tempted to throw a pillow at the door or--even better--his knife before he recognized who exactly stood outside.

His voice made him sound like he had died ten years ago but it didn’t matter as his heart pulsated wildly with excitement. “Guys?”

A choir of five voice yelled back his name before they broke into a babble of worried questions.

“Keith, you okay?”

“You need to be more careful, Number Four!”

“Keith you asshole, what did you think just running off?!”

“Are you okay, buddy?”

“Oh Keith, we were so worried!”

He had problems to sort each voice to their owner but he appreciated it nevertheless - even if it gave him a monstrous headache.

“Yes I’m okay,” he hurried to answer, suppressing the need to clean his throat. It hadn’t worked the last time so it wouldn’t do it this time.

Allura’s voice reached his ear, gentle and caring: “We brought you some food, in case you were hungry.”

Oh. Food. He looked down at his stomach. It grumbled and pain sent it into clenching spasms. Keith grimaced and pressed a hand against it, How long had he been asleep to feel this hungry? And how hadn’t he recognized it?

He turned his head to the door’s direction, and raised his voice, slowly getting used to the hoarse sound: “I’m coming.”

Untangling his legs from the sheets seemed to be the biggest challenge. Keith had lost his sense of balance, and it only took one wrong movement to fall to the cold, hard floor. The impact punched a grunt out of his lips, followed by a cascade of coughs. The instinct to curl inward and protect himself from further pain came and shook his whole body.

Screams of “Keith!” managed to get through to him, pulling him away from the edge to pain.

“I-” A dry hiccup rattled his throat. “I’m coming.”

He needed several tries to get up again. The first time his legs didn’t respond and for a short moment, Keith feared being paralyzed. The second time he was too weak, so he allowed himself to rest a bit until he felt something again.

He had locked the door and any attempt by the Garrison to open the door had been prevented by Kosmo.

Keith knew the human body stopped responding when the level of pain became too high; numbness took over his muscles and bones, lulling him into the illusion of being alright. He hadn’t reached that point very often, only two times already: after the Trials of Marmora and after Black and the other lions had crashed on Earth.

It worried him that he suffered so much that his body refused to respond. Was this all a punishment, some perverse way for the universe to mock him? The universe would never answer Keith.

Yet, a small flame of hope flared up in his chest to might get to know the reasons behind his sudden illness. He had never heard about people throwing up flower petals but somehow it expressed the desire in his chest pretty well.

His fogged mind drifted away from his friends, worrying for him. Instead, his eyes trailed downwards onto the sheets, and the petals staining them.

He let out a humorless huff as he looked at the petals in front of him - how could such tender things be able to express the hollow that ruled his soul, emptying it until nothing but the need of being loved was left? How could such tiny things be able to capture the essence of Takashi Shirogane so well, how could their deep purple color be the same as Black’s when Shiro piloted it, so similar and yet so different to Keith’s color? How was it able to tear down the walls Keith had crafted oh so carefully around his heart with such ease, such as the person they were so similar to?

Fate was a cruel companion.

His life had been interrupted by many hopeless moments, moments in which he had thought the despair and sadness would consume him if he didn't push forward, if he didn't stand his ground against the fear, washing over him like an all-consuming wave. In those moments, Keith had reminded himself why he was living and more importantly, what he had to protect. First, it had been his dad, then the birds which used to visit him, and then Shiro and the others moved into the picture.

It helped him as well this time. It was almost freeing to get up again, it gave Keith a weird feeling of determination. The tender skin on his elbows scratched over the cold floor and Keith would have hissed if his throat didn’t feel on fire.

With tumbling steps, he made his way to the door, almost knocking down a datapad laying on the table before his hand finally fell down onto the doorknob. Keith took a deep breath - hopefully, his appearance bearable. He was... afraid to look at himself. Keith didn’t want to see how destroyed he must look. It was cowardly, he was well aware of that, but the need to deny the truth to himself was too strong. Keith’s dry lips turned up to an ironic smile. Kolivan would be disappointed in him.

It took three more breaths to finally open the door. the bright light in the corridor blinded him, and he needed to blink a few times. He heard the shocked intakes of breath. This meant he looked like shit and he stalled opening his eyes for a bit longer, not wanting to see the concern in their faces. He had seen enough worry in his short life.

His heart skipped a beat, causing an uncomfortable sensation in his chest. He had to look at them eventually, so he suppressed the groan bubbling in his chest and he opened his eyes. The “hey, guys” didn’t make it past his lips as he looked at the disaster in front of him. His eyes darted around, trying to understand the horror.

To say the paladins looked bad was a vast understatement. Lance’s eyes had dark circles, while Allura’s hair had lost all of its brilliance, while Pidge’s hair looked like a bird’s nest. Hunk looked as ashen as the time they had faced Lotor, the tension visible in her whole body as she clenched her hands around the tablet he was holding. Even Coran’s mustache had lost all of its former volume, hanging down and describing the overall mood better than everything else could.

Keith’s breath hitched at the sight in front of him. He understood why they looked that way. He had caused them grief, more than he ever wished to have. His voice was unpleasantly loud in the empty corridor, making it sound even worse than it already did: “What happened?”

Lance was the first one who reacted. His face, worried and concerned before, turned into the annoyed expression Keith knew all too well from earlier days. A melodramatic groan left Lance’s lips as he threw his arms into the air and his yelling rang loudly in Keith’s ears, who almost whined in pain.

“What happened?” Lance demanded. Luckily, he didn’t get the chance to complain more; Coran took over, and he turned to look at his drawn face.

His voice was oddly comforting and quiet: “We were really worried, Keith.”

The bad conscience that had boiled in his chest before, steady yet calmly, suddenly flamed up into a destructive fire, almost making Keith’s knees buckle. He knew he had fucked up by not telling them what he had been up to. He never had even thought about the impact of his silence.

Hunk’s voice sounded exhausted and matched the defeated look in his eyes. “Yeah man, you slept for more than ten hours.”

His face was marked by deep lines of concern and Keith’s stomach clenched painfully. Out of all people, Hunk processed worry the worst. He already had a lot of problems accepting the fact his family had been imprisoned by the Galra. He still hadn’t overcome it fully, and Keith knew very well how often Hunk woke up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and tortured by horrible dreams. More than once Hunk had reached out for comfort.

“I’m sorry I frightened you all,” he replied softly, his voice almost inaudible. He stared at the floor, trying to fight the want of running back into his room. Keith always had been bad with apologies.

Pidge adjusted her glasses before she answered matter of factly: “It’s okay. Just make sure to get help when you need some.”

“Yeah I’ll keep that in mind,” Keith murmured, scratching his neck. He made a short break before his eyes fell back on the plate held by Hunk’s hands, “You really brought me food.”

Lance tsked but his face was fond half-smile “Of course we did, Keith. That’s what friends do.”

Friends. Keith rolled the word around on his tongue for a bit, trying out the foreign taste it brought with it. He trusted the paladins, but he had never thought of them as friends until recently. Sticking in space together had changed everything, even his opinions on the others.

Allura didn’t hate him. Lance wasn’t always loud. Pidge did actually care for them as much as for her family. Hunk was more than a coward. He'd known, on some level, all of those things, but space had brought the knowledge to the surface.

Maybe it had been those walls around his heart which had been torn down once Shiro had returned.

“Thank you. This means a lot to me.” Keith spoke softly as his eyes focused on the tablet Hunk held.  He couldn’t look them in the eyes, full of fondness and love. Instead, he reached for the tablet, his dry hands brushing against Hunk's.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Hunk asked again, earning a pointed look from Lance. Keith didn’t mind. It was nice to get cared for.

He smiled, ignoring the pain in his lips. “Yeah, it’s fine. Just a flu that’ll be gone in a few days.”

Nobody looked convinced but Keith didn’t care. They didn’t need to know, not yet at least.

Lance cleared his throat, his voice still sounding raspy as he raised it. “Call us if you need anything. Anytime, okay?”

An easy smile played around Keith’s lips. “Sure.”

And with that, he turned around and vanished in the darkness of his room again. He hadn’t seen the single petal, falling down from his bare arm which had landed in front of Pidge’s feet, nor did he see the terrified look Allura and Coran shared.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm super sorry for the delay, my beta had no power for a few days and the chapter wasn't finished until then!
> 
> I just wanted to thank you all so much, your comments mean the world to me I'm so happy to be here and create something people enjoy. Thank you, I can't express how much this means to me!!!

It’d been several days since Keith had seen the daylight. He'd spent several days in be laying in his bed, shaken by horrible coughs and shivers. Endless amounts of sweat drenched his body and the warmth of the heavy had dried it, making it stick to his body until Keith felt like a breaded fish.

Without Kosmo, Keith would have died from stubbornness. The wolf seemed to understand his suffering and had made it his personal mission to fuel Keith with food and fresh water. He’d never loved his wolf more.

Keith didn’t know how he did it, but on the third day, he decided not to accept the situation anymore. Somehow, he managed to get out of his bed, Kosmo supporting him as much as he could by pressing his large body against Keith’s legs.

They made it to the bathroom adjacent to his bedroom, stumbling between breaks. Relief overcame his body as he felt the cold wall tiles under his sweaty hands. It almost drowned him. Kosmo yipped quietly, and Keith’s heart suddenly didn’t feel so heavy anymore.

He gazed down into gleaming eyes. The rattle that left his throat sounded pathetic but he didn’t care. “Thank you, buddy,” he whispered and got a friendly blink in return.

It was hard to find the light switch. The moment he found it he regretted it instantly. The door laid on the opposite wall to the mirror and the moment someone entered the bathroom, he had to look into the mirror, like Keith had to now.

Keith would lie if he said he recognized himself. The face in the mirror looked like a skull, pearly white skin pressed against dry bones, hollow eyes sunken into their holes, dried and ripped lips, with violet strains covering the red bloody skin.

He hated it.

Not being able to stand the raging pain in his chest anymore, Keith looked away, onto his blueish toes. He grimaced and turned his eyes to the wall next to him. Why was everything about him disgusting?

There was only one way to help himself: a very hot shower. Kosmo had to assist him by pushing him into the wall. He appreciated the effort even if it ended in bruises for him. The water on his skin felt like a release. It washed everything away, from his thoughts and the burning pain in his shoulders to the arch in his legs. He was a single nerve receiving too much information at once; he leaned against the quickly warming wall. With a sigh, he stood there, letting the tension flow away. The boiling hot water ran over his head, making his knees buckle as hair fell into his eyes.

The paralyzed feeling after Haggar’s magic had hit Black was no comparison to his current state, and he needed to take his wrist into his other hand to finally be able to grasp the shampoo. It was an undertaking to open the bottle; his fingers slipped downwards every time he tried to use the cap and it forced an exhausted groan from his burning throat. When did he lose the ability to follow the simplest tasks?

Eventually, he managed to open the bottle. The loud clicking sound echoed through the bathroom. It almost hurt as it rang in his ears and Keith closed his eyes, a weak attempt to ignore it.

Silence followed while he showered. With no sounds, his mind was free to wander, to go where it pleased and to his horror, it went to the darkest parts of his memories, the seemingly endless days he had spent in the desert, lonely and surrounded by nothing but sand and heat.

It’d been sunny there, but Keith had been drowning in his own darkness. It had almost swallowed him completely like a swamp and Keith knew that if he’d stayed there for only a little while longer, he would have been lost irrevocably. Takashi Shirogane had been light the universe had shed on him, releasing him from the prison of his mind.

Keith remembered the day he had met him, the prickling feeling in his chest, insecurity mixed with excitement. He hadn’t been able to puzzle out Shiro and his thoughts; the man was able to put on a poker face better than everyone else. Keith had spent half of the time wondering if Shiro wanted to push him out of the simulator or if he was impressed by him. A huff left his throat; maybe he was just bad at social stuff in general.

Shiro had never given up on him though, despite his horrible communication issues. They had worked on it for a long time, Shiro suggesting he read political speeches to analyze them, watching debates to get a better grasp on argumentation.

To everyone’s surprise and mostly to his own, Keith had enjoyed those hours a lot. They had been filled with joy and happiness, and the honeyed sound of Shiro’s laughs, mixing with his when a politician said something strange.

His fondest memory, however, had been their visit to a local fish market. A hundred years ago, it had been a common thing in small villages near the coast, but nowadays it was something long forgotten. Yet some towns kept the old custom alive and Shiro had taken Keith with him after telling him about his time in Japan and his adoration of fish.

The whole day was a blur of happiness in Keith’s head—followed by the sellers’ yells, they’d made their way through the crowd, Keith holding Shiro’s sleeve so as to not lose him.  Every few feet, they stopped to look at the stalls. The wide, hollow eyes of the fish had scared Keith. He hadn’t openly said it but Shiro had known anyway.

In the end, Keith and Shiro had bought some big fresh fish sticks and fries and had eaten them while sitting at the beach.

A tear broke loose, rolling down his cheek and a sob left his throat, muffled by gushing water. He had seen so much of the world, of the universe, thanks to Shiro. He had made Keith a better human, capable of accepting love and fondness instead of pushing everyone and everything away. Shiro had made him a better human being.

The guttural groan rattling through his chest shook his whole body.

Love was horrible.

 

* * *

 

He heard the almost inaudible scratch when he was drying his right leg. Keith froze - that hadn’t been Kosmo. The rustling of clothes was subtle but too quiet for Kosmo and his big paws. A cold shiver ran down his neck. He wouldn’t be able to defend Kosmo and himself in this state, the burning in his throat was worse than any wildfire. His legs felt untrustworthy as well and Keith couldn’t stop thinking about every possible way they could kill him.

Close hand-to-hand combat was not an option then. Keith looked around as he slowly put the towel back to its place. The bathroom was weapon-free both because Keith tended to be quite clumsy in the morning hours and because he never had considered it. Now that proved to be a horrible mistake.

Keith scowled inwardly - Kolivan would be disappointed if he knew. His eyes jerked around, searching for a weapon. His eyes followed the rim of the bathtub, upwards to his bath bomb collection until they fell onto - the bath brush. A triumphant feeling pushed against his rib cage.-.

Nothing but crushing silence came from the bedroom now. Keith’s head wanted to implode - what if they had Kosmo, what if they killed him, what if- The thoughts made his steps wobbly, and suddenly the way to the bathtub seemed endless.

Nevertheless, his hands eventually touched the cold wood and at that moment, Keith felt safer than he probably should. His skin stretched uncomfortably over his clenched hand but he hadn’t the time to care. Not yet. Not when there was someone in the room with Kosmo and possibly trying to hurt him.

The door was barely open and Keith had a hard time finding a chance to glance through the slit. Darkness greeted him, the gleaming of Kosmo’s fur and...

Keith swallowed.

A well-known silhouette.

The icy grip of fear crushed his heart violently, making him gasp. Bright yellow eyes looked up, meeting his confused ones.

“Hello, Keith.”

He gasped. This couldn’t be - how was it possible? Maybe he’d started hallucinating. Yes, that must be it, there was no possible other explanation.

Yet his tongue moved by itself, forming words he tried to suppress violently. “Hello, Mom.”

Sometimes when Keith had laid in his bed alone, shaken by the desert night’s emptiness, he had imagined escaping his body. He would fly above the desert sand, as fast as he wanted, eyes wide and wondering at all the miracles awaiting him. When he had imagined it, he’d actually seen himself from the window, small and curled up under the covers, awaiting the sweet release of sleep. He hadn’t felt it in ages, but now he dreamed like that again.

His body looked tense, shoulders hunched, skin awfully pale. His hair curled at the base of his neck, dampened from the hot water and the new-forming sweat on his skin. He looked alarmingly skinny, skin clinging at the bones beneath it, and he wanted nothing more than to avert his eyes from his pathetic appearance.

He was not worthy to be a paladin anymore. He didn’t deserve the honor. Keith couldn’t handle it anyway: he was just able to breathe, but only with difficulty. He couldn’t suffer through the horror of unrequited love.

Opening his eyes, Keith found himself back in his body. His sight was clouded by something he couldn't name, and it made it impossible to fix his eyes onto his mother. Keith didn’t know how he found the way into her arms, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was the warm, welcoming embrace, the gentle rocking of his limp body by muscular arms and the soft voice echoing in his ears.

“Everything will be okay now, darling, Mom’s here, Mom’s here.”

He let out a hoarse sob, quickly followed by a wave of screams, muffled by the thick sweater Krolia was wearing. They were screams of fear and despair, rattling his body like an earthquake and Keith was sure this was how hell felt. Immense guilt overcame him as he tried to stop his sobs but didn’t succeed, drenching the sweater with his tears. Yet she didn’t seem to mind, her hands combing through his hair with great care and love.

They continued sitting like that on his bed, Keith curled into her lap like a small kitten and Krolia leaning against the headboard, together with Kosmo who had laid down next to her hips. He didn’t know when but at some point, his tears had dried and every breath scratched against the sore skin of his throat.

His mother hadn’t said anything so far, and that made Keith slightly nervous. Was she mad at him? Was she disappointed at the way he handled things or was it the mere fact of him being sick? He knew he shouldn’t have fallen sick in the middle of the war but he couldn’t help it - not even the Internet had been able to tell him what was happening to him.

Slowly, Keith untangled himself from her arms and stared up at her. “What are you doing here?”

Krolia raised her eyebrows: “Allura called me. She said you didn’t feel well.”

Something warm pulsed in Keith’s chest at those words. “You came back because of that?”

“Of course I did, Keith,” Krolia answered and Keith tightened his grip around her waist. Her hand combed through his hair with a gentleness that made Keith’s thoughts foggy.

Her hand scratched over his skin, causing goosebumps on Keith’s arms. Her voice was a warm embrace against his maltreated soul. “I should take care of you now when I have the chance. Missions can wait.”

His throat felt too tight to swallow and Keith gasped for air like a drowning man. This sort of kindness was new, and it overwhelmed him. Shiro’s kindness was different; it stirred a fire in Keith he was unable to tame as it yearned for recognition by the other man. Krolia’s kindness was soft and reached the deepest parts of his soul, soothing the scars years of loneliness had left there.

A tear fell down his cheek as he whispered: “Thank you, Mom.”

Her hand guided his head back to her warm body and the rumbling in her chest made Keith go limp.

“It’s the least I can do, Keith.”

He nodded slightly before darkness took over him again.

 

* * *

 

“Ugh.”

Keith buried his face into the pillow as bright daylight greeted him. A searing pain rushed through his throat and Keith wished for nothing more than to fall asleep once more.

“Good day, Keith.”

At least his mom was still with him.

He grunted when he rolled in his back, eyes still closed. He felt like something had hit his head several times and it was immensely difficult to force himself to continue breathing.

He hated how weak he sounded when he raised his  voice: “How late is it?”

The sound of saving a document on the Garrison’s data pads echoed through his room. Keith imagined Krolia sitting at his desk, filling out mission reports. It was soothing to think about something so ordinary again.

Keith hadn't done that in a while and didn't realize how much he missed it.

“It's quarter past eleven.”

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips - it was endearing how much Krolia tried to appear as Earth-ish as possible. It made Keith happier than he’d ever expected. Sunbeams hit Krolia’s face and he recognized the unruly hair strains hanging in her face and the rings beneath her eyes.

Keith jerked up as snarling coughs wracked his body. Hasty footsteps hurried to his bed before warm hands touched his naked arms and cradled him into an embrace. Soft whispers reached his ear and he opened his mouth to calm her down;  something wet fell from it. His eyelids were too heavy for him to look it so he fell back into his mother’s strong arms.

He didn’t know how much time passed until the coughs stopped, but the moment they did, he tore his eyes open. Hurriedly, he looked downwards, his eyes searching as he fought against the blur that overtook the edges of his vision. His eyes started to burn but Keith had to find it, he needed to know what was happening--

Something red right caught his eye and he darted forwards, his hands touching the cold fabric of the blanket. Krolia’s lean fingers were a supporting weight on his back as his fingertips came into contact with a damp area. Keith realized it was blood. He had thrown up blood.

Small violet flower petals dotted the puddle of blood and Keith’s breath hitched as he grabbed one. It felt wet against his skin and made his stomach turn.  His voice was breathy as he moved the petal between his fingers. “Mom, what’s going on?”

Krolia’s deep sigh rattled his body and when Keith turned around, her face was lined with worry. Her ears drooped and that sparked the need to protect in his chest.

“Keith, your disease is common for Galra. It’s called Hanahaki Disease. It’s caused by...” Krolia paused and clenched her hands in fists. “By unrequited love.”

The indescribable pain the words caused was incomparable. They burned his skin and set his body aflame as he struggled to process what those words actually meant. Unrequited love. Keith only loved one person like that. Suddenly his throat felt unbelievably dry and he had to swallow.  The universe really enjoyed messing with his life, apparently.

“Oh,” was the only thing he was able to say and judging by Krolia’s expression, he was sure she’d understood. They stared at each other for a few more seconds before she pressed Keith close to her chest, her nose nuzzling his hair. It was comforting and Keith allowed himself to close his eyes.

Krolia heaved a sigh. “I had it as well, once... long, long ago.”

For a short moment, Keith forgot how to breathe; then another wave of petals left his spit-drenched lips. Krolia’s hand hammered against Keith’s back as he threw up and spat blood and petals, ruining the sheets even further. When he calmed down, he fell back into Krolia’s embrace, eyes wide open, and his lips brushed her warm skin as he raised his voice, “Tell me.”

She didn’t respond immediately; rather she shifted around, the pillows rustling with the movement. It was obvious this was a topic she had buried under layers of self-protection and repression. Keith’s breath hitched in his throat as she closed her eyes.

“Mom, you don’t have to-”

She turned her head, the rims of her hollow eyes glistening in the low light of the bedside lamp. Keith’s hands twitched.

“I have to, Keith. I have to.” Her voice weighed him down, almost crushing him.

He nodded slowly. His mom was as stubborn as he was.

Krolia took a deep breath and her expression grew distant, lined by pain. “When I was young and inexperienced among the Blades, my heart was soft and latched quickly onto someone it shouldn’t have been interested in.”

He could do nothing but strengthen his grip around her. Kosmo must have sensed their distress and he snuggled closer to their side, a grounding weight Keith allowed himself to sink into.  

Krolia tensed again. Her face was lined with guilt and something Keith couldn’t quite place, something between sorrow and fondness. “It was Kolivan.”

A small piece of Keith’s heart shattered, brutally and painfully. Everything made sense now. The lingering gazes they gave each other like they shared a secret nobody knew about, the indestructible trust they had in each other and the tortured sadness in her face as they thought Kolivan might have died.

Deep down, Keith knew why Krolia liked him. He was strong and a capable fighter but still, a breathy “H-how-” left his lips, lingering between them like mist.

Her voice was soft now and one of her hands gently petted Kosmo who blinked fondly. “I was young and foolish, Keith. I couldn’t have stopped it even if I wanted. He fascinated me. His discipline, dedication, and passion were undisputed. He was everything I wanted to be, Keith.”

He nodded, unable to say anything.

“He saved me, once.” she continued and suddenly, her body started shaking. Keith quickly intertwined his fingers with hers’ to give her at least some sort of comfort.

“What happened?”

“We were on an undercover mission in one of Zarkon’s fleets. Kolivan and I were freeing imprisoned rebel fighters in different parts of the ships when one of the soldiers recognized me.”

“I couldn’t defend myself because I helped the last rebel to get up who was unable to do it themselves. The soldier hadn’t been alone, another one opened the airlock at the opposite side of the corridor. I was able to kill both of them before the lock opened but it was too late to save the rebel fighter and me.

She stopped for a few seconds to wet her lips.“So I hit my knife into the wall and told them to hold it while I was sucked closer to the airlock. I tried to close it but the pull was too strong and I lost hold onto the wall.”

Krolia stopped and took a deep breath, her eyes dampened with tears. He stared at her, mesmerized of her braveness. “I thought I would die, Keith. I thought I would never be able to see you again.”

Keith’s eyes burned as he closed them, a few tears escaping them. “I’m so sorry, Mom.”

“Shhh, it’s okay." Krolia’s gentle rocking calmed him and he rested his forehead back upon her upper arm. She didn’t say anything for a few more seconds before she exhaled deeply.

A burning question bubbled in his chest and before he could think about it, it filled the air between them. “Did- did you tell him?”

Krolia's jaw clenched and Keith wished he never asked in the first place. “I never told him, no.” A humorless huff shuddered her shoulders. “How could I?”

Pain exploded in his chest and his eyes started burning. Kolivan didn’t even know- he didn’t even know a beautiful woman like Krolia used to love him. The universe was so unfair. Something wet rolled down his cheeks and it took several seconds before Keith understood it was a tear.

“How...” He paused, desperately trying to suck in air. “How did you get it removed then?”

Her tears dampened his hair and Keith clung closer to her, trying to lend her some comfort.

“Ulaz recognized my absence at dinner and one day he heard me throwing up in my room. I wasn’t strong enough to tell him to not come in, and then he saw the blood. He explained it to me since I wasn’t able to find any kind of records about it at the base. I decided to get it removed then."

"And you just... feel nothing for him anymore?”

Krolia shook her head. “No, only platonic feelings.”

He hummed in understanding and his fingers curled into Kosmo's fur. “What would have happened if you didn’t get it removed?”

Krolia’s mouth twitched, a humorless smile tainting them. “I would have died, Keith.”

“Mom, I'm so sorry,” he whispered as the overwhelming pain flooded his body. His breath hitched in his throat before another cough rattled it. This time Keith needed several minutes to stop shaking. The blood splattered down on Krolia's sweater and Keith would have apologized if the petals didn't fill his mouth. He managed to lean away the moment they were freed by a forceful cough. Krolia didn't say anything, her warm hold was enough to comfort him.

“It’s him, right?”

Krolia didn’t need to say a name. It was painfully obvious who she was talking about. He hadn’t tried to hide it particularly well either, so it was all his fault she knew. Was it bad that she knew? Keith's mind whispered that it saved him from having to explain.

“Is it that obvious?” he asked instead, turning his head towards Kosmo to avoid her sharp look.

“'The love in your eyes whenever you see him isn't easy to ignore.'”

Their gazes met, Keith’s knowing and Krolia’s compassionate. Neither spoke. Their stories waited, deep down in their souls, unspoken but understood.

“I used to hate being in love with him.”

Keith paused, hoping to stop the threatening dizziness which tried to overcome his senses. Instead, he focused his gaze onto the wall behind Krolia and the sticky note decorating it.

*it’s killing me when you’re away.*

“There was nothing but emptiness when he left. It hurt so much, so so much.” He couldn’t stop the wetness that overtook his eyes, and he had no energy to prevent the first tears to fall down.

“It paralyzed me, and my feelings. I felt nothing when I punched Iverson.” Krolia’s sharp intake of breath caused him to close his eyes in shame. “Or when I got expelled. There was just nothing. I thought—” a hiccup interrupted him—“I just thought I could get used to it.” He turned his head towards Krolia, a faint smile playing on his lips. “But I was wrong. I never got used to it.”

The loud sob that left Krolia’s mouth shattered Keith’s heart. Her face was buried into her hands, her purple hair messy and her ears hanging low. He wished to lean forward, only a little bit to be able to comfort her, but he was too weak to do so. He could only watch her world break apart at its seams as his one had so many years ago.

And so they sat there in the darkness of his room, only interrupted by a candle's flicker from his nightstand and the glow of Kosmo's fur. Keith’s body chained to the sheets while Krolia sat on a solid wooden chair, shoulders sunken.

“Keith, I’m so sorry. I’ve failed again to protect you.” Krolia’s voice rattled him from his light sleep. It was deep and unusually soft, touching something deep within him he hadn’t known he possessed.

His tongue was heavy in his dry mouth. The words were slurred and uncoordinated when they left his lips but he hoped they still made sense in some way.  “You didn’t, Mom. You didn’t.”

Nothing but crushing silence followed his statement. Keith knew it had to be said, even if his mom didn’t want to believe him. It was not her fault, of course. She hadn’t made him fall in love with Takashi Shirogane: it had been nobody but him. Keith had decided to get dazzled by the sweet smile and the depths of friendly eyes.

He swallowed. “It’s on me to protect me now, and I’ve let myself down.”

Her eyes were hollow as she looked up at him, and Keith’s breath turned ragged as cold shivers ran down his neck. Her voice was empty of any kind of emotion. “There is no one who can treat it anymore, Keith. There is no one left, all of them died in the war.”

At that moment, Keith’s whole world broke apart. The pain overwhelming him forced him to close his eyes and he gulped in fear. This was how he would die? Alone, on a dirty bed, stained with flower petals and tortured by indescribable pain?

“I’ll try to find something for you, Keith, I promise.”

He could do nothing but to nod weakly, his hope slowly dying inside his chest. Krolia's voice was the last thing he heard before exhaustion dragged him back to sleep.

“Some stories don't have a happy ending, Keith. But I'm sure yours will have one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TBH I still have to learn a lot about writing but I know I make small steps every day. :) Please let me know if you liked this chapter by leaving kudos/comments, they mean the world to me! <3
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr](https://iokayia.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/iokayia) (I'm more active there)!

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this fic I would be super happy if you left some kudos or a comment, both help me to stay motivated and they make my day! <3
> 
> If you want to keep up with my work and get fueled by daily sheith reblogs/retweets, you can do so on [Tumblr](https://iokayia.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/iokayia) (I'm more active there)!


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